


Smooth and Thick, Like Caramel Drip

by NOT_TOWA_WAKASA



Category: Collar x Malice (Visual Novel)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Teasing, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 05:19:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16361585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NOT_TOWA_WAKASA/pseuds/NOT_TOWA_WAKASA
Summary: Ichika often visits Takeru under the pretense of making sure he’s eating right. What happens when Takeru tries to return the favor?





	Smooth and Thick, Like Caramel Drip

**Author's Note:**

> This is very indulgent, so no apologies for any corniness you may experience. Also, if you read the tags, the sex is considerate of bottom dysphoria, though terms like "clit" are used without euphemism.

Work had Ichika absolutely beat. The long hours she’d come to expect during the X-Day investigations have only gotten longer in the wake of the raid on the cult’s headquarters. There is just so much to do, people to talk to and things to sort out - it isn’t just her endurance that’s being tested, but her ability to remember names, faces, and individual people with individual problems that, while Ichika is completely devoted to helping with, quickly become exhausting after days and days of ever-towering piles of complaints and reports.

Whenever she complains about this to someone, she makes absolutely sure that they know that she loves her job - without it being a lie - but when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, no sign that the work load is going to lighten anytime soon… it’s hard not to get worn down.

Not being able to see Takeru as often makes it worse. They don’t see each other during work hours anymore, given that he’s moved jobs. She visits him when she can, typically with the motive of making sure he’s eating right, but the free time she has for those visits is always sandwiched between work and time spent recovering from work.

At least now, she’s home. Safely within the ‘recovering’ part of her daily cycle. She could reheat some leftovers (she likes to cook in bulk, it was more convenient in the long run for both her and Kazuki), make herself some tea, read a book… Probably not that last thing. She’s done reading for the day. Maybe a movie?

Already peeling off her jacket, she fits her key into the door of her apartment before pushing in. She’s surprised to immediately be met with Kazuki’s equally shocked expression, caught in the middle of putting on his coat.

“… Hey,” Ichika says, a little carefully. “Are you going somewhere?”

It’s a question her brother could easily answer _duh, no shit_ to, but the expectation is implicit. Even if their relationship had some sore spots, Ichika and Kazuki got along better these days. Trust had to go both ways - he can go out if he wants to, of course, but she wants to know where, and if it’s because of a pressure she’s putting on him, she wants him to talk to her about it rather than avoid her.

All of this consideration is dashed, though, as Kazuki rolls his eyes, pushes his arm through the sleeve of his coat, and moves to walk past her. “Nah, I’m not staying for this. Have fun.”

That’s not what Ichika expected. Kazuki doesn’t seem upset by anything, though, which is a relief. She lets him pass, and he does, throwing the door shut on his way out.

The ‘this’ that Kazuki was referring to becomes clear once the smell of garlic reaches her nose and she follows it to the kitchen. Plastic bags litter the floor next to the island, which itself is covered in chopping boards and ingredients. Looming over the stove is none other than her boyfriend, Takeru, cooking dinner as if he was in his own home.

Ichika has no words. “Uh?”

Takeru turns around. The sleeves of his clean, ivory-white dress shirt are rolled up past his elbows. His tie is gone and the first button is undone, revealing a sliver of his collar. It’s what he typically wears to work, which tells Ichika he came straight here. But why?

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Takeru says, unhelpfully, with a grin. “If you took any longer, I’d be annoyed.”

“I… wasn’t expecting you to be here,” says Ichika. The only times he’s visited were when she’s invited him. Normally, she’d be happy to see him, but he looks out of place in her kitchen.

Takeru stares at her. After a pause, his lips pull into a smirk. “You forfeited your right to complain when you started barging into my apartment whenever you felt like it. I can visit my girlfriend as I please.”

Hearing Takeru call her his girlfriend still manages to make Ichika’s cheeks warm - even if he’s being rude at the same time. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t know you could cook, Takeru.” It was far from a bad thing. The pot over which he resides looks like it’s filled with pasta noodles. It’s been a while since Ichika has had a western dinner. “You always seemed really selfish about food.”

“Oi,” he frowns. “I’ll eat it all by myself if you’re ungrateful. Shut up and let me finish.”

… So he wanted her to be grateful. It’s hard for Ichika to read him when he’s like this, but she felt a little happy knowing that he was trying to do something for her.

Soon enough, Takeru is setting the table in the apartment’s living room with plates, utensils, and portioned out pasta. It _smells nice_ , though the scent of garlic is thick enough to be a bit off putting.

"Well?” asks Takeru, wearing a cool face and waiting for her to take the first bite.

Ichika tries it. The sauce tastes alright - recognizing the dish, Ichika half-expected it to end up either too watery or burnt, but the consistency is perfectly fine.

The shells, though, are more stiff than she anticipates. It only gets harder to eat with each bite.

“It tastes nice, Takeru,” Ichika says after swallowing. “I can tell you tried hard preparing it.”

Takeru’s face droops into a skeptical frown. “… “It’s just food, idiot. I can read your face. You don’t have to lie about liking it.”

Was he being defensive or dismissive? Ichika couldn’t tell. “I’m not lying. I’m really happy that you tried making this for me, but… I don’t know why you’re doing this all of a sudden. If you wanted us to eat dinner together, you should have told me. We could have made it together.”

Clearly trying hard to hide his embarrassment, Takeru clicks his teeth and averts his eyes. “You really don’t know what the point of this is?” For a moment, Ichika expects him to end the question with a jab, but after a pause, he gets up from the table, leaving his plate untouched. Without a word to Ichika, he grabs his phone from the kitchen and starts dialing.

“Takeru?”

“Ordering takeout,” he says. “I’m not going to make you eat crap.”

Ichika didn’t know why he was being so particular about dinner, but she was a little relieved. Even if it’s practical, having leftovers several nights in a row always makes her feel lethargic. Eating something fresh without having to make it herself was refreshing.

Even so, the awkwardness of Takeru’s stubbornness is compounded during the wait that follows. Some of it is relieved when Takeru asks Ichika about her day - she would never speak poorly of her coworkers, or of the people she works to help, but hearing Takeru call someone who wasted her time a ‘moronic nuisance’ is cathartic, even if she has tell him they’re really not that bad after he does so. Just talking to Takeru again is nice.

Dinner comes belatedly in the form of two bento boxes, placed on the living room table which has since been cleared of Takeru’s previous attempt at a meal. At first glance, Ichika sees several of her favorite foods sectioned away in the box’s compartments. She suddenly remembers how hungry she is.

A lot of things about this were odd, though. A dinner like this screamed casual, but Takeru had clearly put a lot of thought into tonight. Even so, this still wasn’t a date… though, it wasn’t exactly normal for him to visit her like this, either.

Disregarding those thoughts for a moment, Ichika sticks a piece of beef in her mouth, chewing carefully. The juicy, savory flavor quickly spreads over her tongue. _So good_ …

“Well?” Takeru asks, for the second time this night.

Ichika swallows. “Oh!” She was being rude! “Thank you for the dinner, Takeru. I’m very grateful.”

“Of course you are,” Takeru says, though he smirks a little. “That’s not what I mean. Are you happy with this?”

Ichika blinks. “… Happy with the food?” Was he expecting her to say it was bad?

“No.” He leans forward, putting his weight on his arms he has resting on the table. “With your reward.”

“Huh?” Ichika’s eyes widen. “R… reward?”

“… You’ve been working hard lately,” he starts, lips pressing into a line. “On top of that, you’ve been visiting me and making meals. I didn’t ask for that, but you do it anyway. You’re always putting more work on your plate.” He cups his chin, partially covering his mouth. “You’re diligent. Not once have you complained… It doesn’t sit right with me.”

… Oh. That’s what he meant by all this. Ichika feels her cheek warm. “Takeru…” She looks down. “I do those things because I want to. I like my job, and I don’t mind working longer hours. And I cook for you because I want you to be healthy.”

At that, Takeru grins - no, that’s not quite right. It’s a genuine smile’s wearing. “You’re my girlfriend, stupid. Of course I know you’d feel that way.” Just as soon, his smile twists into something more typical of him. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t treat you. In fact, it’d be a waste if I didn’t. You should know when to cash out.”

Ichika’s heart swells in her chest, and she feels a fluttering in her stomach.

“… This isn’t really what you deserve, though,” he continues, averting his eyes. “I thought you’d be too tired to go out to a restaurant, so I went with something simple. But it ended up being a disappointment.”

Takeru really had put a lot of thought into this. As serious as he seemed to be, Ichika couldn’t help but laugh a little.

He frowns. “Oi…”

She chuckles more, but tries to stop. “It’s true that work can get tiring… and I miss having more time to myself. But being able to spend time with you is special on its own, Takeru. Just knowing that you care enough to do something like this… it makes me really happy.”

Ichika smiles at him. For a moment, Takeru watches her, thinking. His cheeks redden, and his lips are pressed into an impassive line, but he doesn’t shy away from meeting her eyes. “I can at least return the favor, can’t I?”

Then, glancing at her bento - “Hey, come to my side of the table. I want to feed you.”

That throws Ichika off. “F-feed me?” Ichika gapes. “Hey, I’m not a dog!”

“… That’s not what I meant.” Takeru’s cheeks redden further, and his eyebrows knit together. “It’s something couples do, isn’t it? I know you like this sort of thing. So just let me do this for you.”

Ichika’s chest tightens. This seems like something that would happen in one of Mineo’s romance novels…

But she steps around the table to his side and sits down. Her cheeks burn just as bright as his as Takeru picks up another piece of beef from her bento. She opens her mouth, and he guides it to her lips with a protective hand underneath - she has to dip her head a little for it to get behind her teeth. It’s a little cooler now than it was when she first opened the bento, but still warm.

It’s embarrassing having him watch her chew - and when, after a moment, he grins, her heart skips a beat. Wordlessly, he picks up another piece of food, and they continue like that. Occasionally, Takeru will pop something in his own mouth, usually after making Ichika think it’s for her.

At some point, Takeru picks up a rice ball. Like before, he places it against her lips, but when Ichika bites down, it falls apart - half into her mouth, and half falling onto her shirt.

Ichika makes a surprised noise. “Oops,” she says, but instead of chastising her, Takeru stares. After a pause, he leans closer, his eyes locking with hers - and when they’re inches a part, he picks a clump off her chest. The proximity is alone is enough to fluster Ichika, but her heart rate soars when he then puts it in his mouth.

“Uhm,” she says.

She’s still caught off guard when he raises a hand to her face, only to brush a grain of rice off her chin. Should she thank him? If she knew the answer, she wouldn’t know how. His thumb moves upwards to touch her lower lip, his fingers curling around her jaw.

Ichika sighs with relief against his mouth when he finally leans in and kisses her. Little warm tingles radiate from her lips. She kisses him back, leaning into him as he had.

With her heart beating liking a hummingbird's and her chest pooling with warmth, Ichika places a clammy hand in the space between his neck and shoulder, holding on to him. A shiver runs through her when he returns the gesture by placing a hand on her chest, groping her while another hand is planted at her side. She feels Takeru grin against her lips after a whine sounds in the back of her throat.

Takeru pulls away, and their lips part. The smirk he wears is insufferable. “You’re really wound up,” he says.

Ichika’s forces her lips into a frown. Her face feels impossibly hot. “It’s… been a while.”

He chuckles. “I can help with that.” The hand on her chest droops to her side, palming slightly at the curve of her waist. “I brought more than just ingredients and my wallet, you know.”

It takes Ichika a moment. Her eyes dart from him to the pile of bags he left in the kitchen. Most of them were plastic grocery bags, but one clearly wasn’t.

Her heart tremors. “You… you brought that when Kazuki was here?”

“Yeah.” His face doesn’t change at all.

“What if he saw?!”

At that, his grin widens. He strokes her lower back. “Then he’d know how I make his sister happy.”

Ichika gapes. “Takeru!”

“Relax,” he drawls. “Your brother didn’t go through my stuff, or anything like that. He didn’t even check on me while I was cooking.”

Ichika feels her ears flush. Hearing that is a relief, but still, the thought of her little brother possibly seeing one of her boyfriend’s dicks is mortifying. Meanwhile, Takeru takes the opportunity to begin kissing down her neck, and. And. It feels very nice.

“Uhm.” Ichika clears her throat. “Let’s go to my room.”

Takeru presses a light peck near her ear. “If that’s what you want, poochie.”

God. Ichika gets up, and Takeru follows her. The table was still set with food, and the kitchen hadn’t yet been cleaned, but… that could be dealt with later.

After they head to Ichika’s bedroom, Takeru closes the door behind them, conspicuous bag in hand. This is the first time they’ve been here together. Now that Ichika thinks about it, they’ve only ever done this sort of thing at Takeru’s place. Sitting on her bed and leaning against the wall, her heart races as she sheds her clothes, undoing buttons one by one, shimmying out of her skirt and tights and discarding her bra. Soon, she’s down to her plain white underwear.

Ichika is always nervous when it comes to undressing in front of someone else, but watching Takeru do so is even more flustering. The lean muscles that make up his chest are seen at first through sliver, one which gets wider with each button undone. Her heart skips a beat when she catches him meeting her eyes. Thick hair trails from his stomach to between his thighs, revealed in full as he slips out of his trousers. His dress shirt is thrown to the floor, and he leans forward to place a knee on the edge of the bed before crawling towards her.

Warmth tingles beneath Ichika’s stomach as Takeru’s hand forms around her bare chest, his thumb curving around the swell of her breast. He smirks at her reaction, and dips down to press kisses against her jaw. A shaky exhale escapes through her lips.

He continues to play with her, cupping and gently squeezing her breasts in his hands. As rough as he could be verbally, he is always careful and deliberate in how he treats her body. Maybe it made him feel powerful to draw these reactions from her. As Ichika feels the dry heat of his thumb circle her nipple, she whines, and adjusts to hang her arms over his back.

It was hard not to feel insecure, even with him paying her so much attention. “How… uhm.” Ichika tries to find her voice. Her face is burning, and it’s hard to think. “How do you feel about them?” She tries, avoiding having to say what she means outright.

Instead of answering, Takeru’s head dips down from her neck to her chest. He drags his tongue over her nipple, drawing a sharp hiss through Ichika’s teeth.

He pulls away. “Small,” he says.

“Takeru!” Ichika gasps.

He rolls his eyes. “Relax. I like them how they are.” It’s hard to see from this angle, but she can tell he’s grinning.

His hand gently squeezes her right breast, index finger and thumb coming together to tweak at her nipple. Ichika groans, and sucks in a breath. “They… could be bigger, though. Most guys like that.” It had been more than a few years, but even in highschool, men could be very… open with their tastes when they were among themselves.

He glares at her half-heartedly. “Only I’m allowed to see them, so it doesn’t matter what other guys think. I say they’re good, so they’re good.”

… Takeru could really be a pig sometimes. But, in a way, it did make Ichika feel better.

Takeru draws away, looking to the side of the bed to where he placed his bag, and begins to rummage around. Once he finds what he’s looking for, he rises with a length of silicon attached to a harness hanging from its base.

Ichika watches with bated breath as Takeru then works himself into the harness. She unconsciously squeezes her thighs together as he fixes each strap, hoisting the base of his smooth, black cock against his crotch.

When Ichika glances back at Takeru’s face, she sees that he’s ridiculously pleased with himself. He dips down again to pull out something else - a small container of lubricant, with a cover that was, at a glance, unassuming. Ichika decides against telling him that she has her own still-half-full tub of lube in her nightstand.

When Takeru leans into her, Ichika places her hands against him, fingers fanning out as she feels the ridges and curves of his chest. They slide down his sides appreciatively. In turn, she shivers when Takeru places his hands on the insides of her thighs, gently encouraging her to spread her legs. As she does, she’s starkly aware of how naked she is - how she can’t possibly hide her arousal from him.

One of the hands on her thigh snakes down to where Ichika’s thighs meet. As Takeru caresses her, he cranes his neck upward to peck at her jaw. His hand turns, and ghosts over the thin fabric of her panties. She can’t stop the groan that rises in her throat, and Takeru takes that as a sign to stroke again, this time palming her completely.

“T… T-Takeru…”

He continues kissing down the flesh of her throat. Honestly, she prefers that to him talking. She doesn’t know if she could stand his teasing right now.

Finally, his fingers wrap around to hook under the hem of her panties. Ichika places her hands on his, and leans from side to side so her underwear can be pulled down her thighs, a string of precum trailing from her head.

She can’t possibly get more naked than this. Ichika’s heart beats in her ear. Takeru’s lips finally pull away, and he looks at her, their eyes meeting. She can tell from the heat in his eyes that he’s just as aroused as she is - and as much as his expression twists into something devilishly teasing, she can see that there’s love in there for her, too.

Takeru pours lube onto his fingers. Thick globules drip down to his knuckle, but otherwise stick to the skin. Wordlessly, Ichika spreads her legs, and Takeru brushes against her entrance - the lube is room temperature, but slick, and the foreign sensation sends a tingle up her spine. She sucks in a breath as he slides a finger in, easily fitting inside her.

It’s a nice feeling. Ichika focuses on relaxing herself for him, but the odd tingling she feels as he pushes himself inside her reverberates through her core.

“Open your eyes, Ichika.”

It was whispered softly, in his warm baritone voice. Ichika hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes. When she does as she says, she finds him staring back at her, his smoldering gaze full of intent. He doesn’t have to say anything to get his point across - _watch me when I do this to you._

Ichika swallows thickly.

Takeru draws his finger back, only to slide in a second finger. The stretch she feels is far from unpleasant. An involuntary whine sounds in the back of her throat when she feels him scissor inside her. With their faces so close, Ichika is intimately aware that Takeru will see every shift in her expression. That he’s close enough to hear her audible inhale when he begins to pump his fingers.

Suddenly, pleasure shoots through Ichika like an electric shock. As Takeru hooks his fingers in just the right spot, her thighs clench, her hands tighten into fists, and she gasps. Takeru lets go, only to press into it again, pulling from her another bout of pleasure.

“You like that, poochie?”

Unbelievable. “A-ah… don’t call me that…!”

He smirks, and leans into her cheek. “Whatever you want. Ichika.”

Somehow it’s even worse when he says her name like that.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“…” He’s asking a serious question, but Ichika blushes anyway. “Ready. I feel ready.”

Takeru nods. Slowly, he draws out his fingers, leaving Ichika feeling vaguely empty, her walls now clinging at nothing. He pours more lube onto his palm, which he then smears onto his dick. Just watching him makes Ichika’s chest buzz with anticipation.

Ichika shifts on the bed and lays herself on her side. She watches from below as Takeru moves to loom over her, holding the base of his dick between his finger and thumb, before he sinks down behind Ichika. She feels his presence first in the bed dipping behind her, and then in his hot breath rolling down her back. A warm hand comes to wrap around her her waist, skitting along her ribcage.

Then, Takeru pulls her flush against his chest. Skin against so much skin, warm and encompassing. His stiff cock prods at her lower back, smearing slick where it touches.

Ichika’s heart jitters in her chest, but she can faintly feel Takeru’s heartbeat on her back, just as fast as hers. The pressure against her back disappears, and a moment later, a violent shiver runs through her entire body as his cock brushes against her entrance.

A pause, before his deep voice rumbles behind her ear. “Hey. Comfortable?”

She’s so much more than comfortable. It’s not until he voices his deliberation that she realizes just how much she wants this. How much she’s missed being touched and handled by him. His voice alone is enough to make her body tense and twitch.

" _… Please, Takeru.”_ It comes out as a breathy whine. She leans into him.

An exhale rolls across her neck. “Needy girl,” he murmurs. Of course he was going to tease her, but at least it wasn’t another allusion to dogs burying their bones. A hand curves around Ichika’s thigh, and Ichika takes it as direction to spread her legs.

An anticipatory moment, and then Takeru pushes into her. Ichika’s breath catches, and stays caught in her throat as he gradually eases himself inside her. His dick is so much thicker than his fingers, but the sensation of being filled is satisfying in the basest of ways. While he sinks into her, she feels his lips pepper kisses down the back of her neck and his hand stroke her side.

Once Ichika feels him fully, completely sheathed inside her, there’s a lull before he pulls back in order to drive into her again. A stolen gasp turns into a moan as the tip of Takeru’s cock brushes against the bundle of nerves inside her. Liquid hot pleasure makes her body tense and her member jolt upright. Ichika tries to say his name, and she’s shamefully embarrassed when it comes out as a mess of slurred syllables.

“I noticed,” Takeru replies anyway, with an audible smirk. He draws back, painfully slow, leaving behind a raw feeling of emptiness, before swiftly snapping forward again.

Ichika cries out, much louder than she was ready for. Could her neighbors hear that? Takeru’s arm wraps tight around her front, at the same time hoisting her leg higher into the air, keeping her in place while he pulls back and hammers into her, again and again - always drilling into the same spot. Breathy grunts brush Ichika’s ear with every thrust, punctuated by her own involuntary gasps.

She feels as if she’s being played like an instrument. Unceasing shocks of pleasure reverberate through her lower body, quaking in her painfully stiff member. Takeru’s self-satisfaction is apparent, his dry exhales trailing off like cruel laughter. He grasps her breast, squeezing slightly, before roughly tugging her nipple, making her back arch.

Tension pulls Ichika’s body tight like a chord. Her teeth clatter together, and she feels wetness welling in his her eyes. “Hh… Don’t s-stop,” she says, planting her hand and elbow on the bed to keep herself upright.

Takeru clicks his tongue. “Tch… you’re too cute. You want me to spoil you, huh?” He keeps pumping into her, building up into a quicker pace.

Ichika’s face burns. She feels like a pot bubbling at the brim with boiling water. Her lips press into a tight line, until a particularly hard thrust makes her gasp.

“I’ll…” Takeru sucks in a harsh breath. “I don’t mind. Since you’ve been good, I’ll treat you, just this once.”

Sparse tears roll down Ichika’s cheek as sweat pours from her forehead. Without any warning, Takeru tips them both over. Ichika lands on her chest, face resting on her toppled arms. The new angle allows Takeru to bury himself even deeper inside her, and in the same moment, Ichika feels his hand wrapping around her hardness.

The combined stimulation is too much. One, two, three pumps of her quivering length and she cries out, doing her best to muffle herself against her the crook of her arm. Molten waves of pleasure crash into her, overwhelming and all-encompassing. As her entire body tenses, Takeru slows his pace, but doesn’t stop - riding out her orgasm with lazy thrusts.

Moments later, the residual tingling of Ichika’s orgasm linger in her limbs, but the tension has faded. She’s kept upright by Takeru’s grip on her side, and when he eventually lets go, sliding out from her, Ichika falls flat against the bed. So she can better breath, she rolls onto her back.

Sitting on his knees, Takeru towers over her. Ichika can both see and feel his eyes trails her body. It makes her feel exposed, but in a way that is familiar, comforting. Warm.

She pushes herself up. Takeru makes room for her by sitting back when Ichika moves to bow between his thighs. As she begins unbuckling one of his harness’s straps, Takeru follows along, undoing another.

His fingers shake. Ichika considers, just for a moment, turning his teasing back on him by noting how eager he seems.

She decides against it. The harness droops, and Takeru pulls the cock away before letting it drop at his side. His core glistens, along with the slick smeared from from his thighs to his pubic hair. Subtly, Takeru’s stomach tenses, and his thighs clench. Ichika can hear the pace of his breathing quicken.

What Ichika couldn’t observe from this angle, laying between Takeru’s thighs, is the hand that comes to run through her sweat-slick hair, brushing her bangs away from her face and behind her ear. The gesture calls her gaze upwards - to Takeru’s heaving chest, to his expression, to his eyes, boiling with need.

An electric pulse shoots down Ichika’s spine. She dips her head, and pays Takeru’s large clit a tentative lick before softly sealing it between her lips. Takeru’s next breath comes in the form of a hiss, and the hand resting on Ichika’s head clenches halfway into a fist.

“— Good, Ichika,” he says, his voice rumbling deep. The simple phrase is enough to make her head swim. “Keep going. Show me how grateful you are.”

There’s a buzzing in Ichika’s chest as she swirls her tongue around the underside of his clit. Her instinct is to go slow, to be gradual, but Takeru’s hand on the back of her head is constantly encouraging her to go faster. Having that control over him - being able to set the pace, for him to have to tell her what he wants and for it to be up to her to fulfill his needs - it makes her giddy.

The heady scent of him fills her nose. Ichika sucks on him gently before parting her lips and circling him with her tongue. She alternates, giving him moments to breath before dragging her tongue over his length. When his breath hitches and he bucks into her mouth, she wraps her lips tightly around him. She hollows her cheeks, applying pressure with her lips as she bobs.

The hand on her hair turns into a grip. Takeru signals his climax with a grunt, followed by a gasp. Sweet sounds fill Ichika’s ears, Takeru’s thighs tensing under her hands. “Ichika,” he hisses.

After a long series of spasms, she backs away. Takeru looks down at her through half-lidded eyes, saying nothing. As he calms, there’s only the sound of breathing between them. Any words that could be said would feel out of place. Under his tired, appreciative gaze, her heart swells. She feels content.

After wiping her mouth on her wrist, Ichika reaches up - and in the same moment, Takeru dips down to meet her lips. The kiss is chaste, in cool contrast to their sweat-slick bodies and the lingering buzz in Ichika’s chest. A lazy hum of approval sounds in Takeru’s throat.

When they part, Ichika leans down to rest her head on Takeru’s chest. His emanating warmth encompasses her like a blanket, and the rhythm of his beating heart is comforting in her ear.

“Thank you,” Ichika says, smiling to herself.

There’s a pause, during which Takeru swallows. “What, for letting you suck me off?”

Ichika lazily shakes her head. “No. For coming by. For doing something special for me.” There’s a lot she wants to convey to him, but the words don’t come to easily to her. She hopes it gets across anyway. “Knowing that you’re here for me, Takeru… it means the world to me.”

Another pause. Ichika can only imagine what his face looks like.

Suddenly, Takeru’s arms wrap tight around her, hugging her Ichika to his chest. She’s totally cocooned between his chest and his strong arms.

“Takeru?”

He pulls her down, sinking down to the bed alongside her. With her head tucked under his chin, she has no way of guessing what he’s thinking until he finally speaks. His voice is as quiet as it is sure. “… I love you, Ichika.”

 

—

 

 

—

 

Takeru could be impulsive when he was groggy, but as he notes, Ichika hardly stirs as he lazily plays with her hair. Her slightly parted lips breath soft, untroubled breaths, and her expression is completely contented by sleep. Messy brown hair frames her face.

She’d doubtlessly shy away or chide him if she knew Takeru was watching her like this, early in the morning, but that obviously wasn’t an issue. At least, it wasn’t for now. If she woke up… All Takeru would be able to tell her was that he did it because he felt like it.

He loves this woman. Though he liked to tease her, and struggled to convey his thoughts, this feeling in his chest was real.

As content as he feels in this moment, he knows that things weren't going to change anytime soon. They'll still work busy jobs and their schedules will still frequently clash. He wants to make more of an effort to show her that he cares, but they’re still going to spend more time apart than together.

Though… once there’s nothing in the way, she’ll finally be able to move in with him. They’ll wake up like this every morning, and last night could happen as often as he pleases. That would make work a lot easier, knowing what he’d be coming home to.

That thought makes something stir inside him. Ichika has no idea how much of an effect she has on him.

After spending a moment longer tucking stray hairs behind her ear, Takeru decides it’s time to get up. He wasn’t about to make a fool out of himself again by trying to make another meal, but he could at least clean up from last night’s efforts. It would be crass for him to fuck her, stay the night, and leave her with dishes.

Throwing on yesterdays clothes, Takeru opens the door and heads for the kitchen, still buttoning up his shirt when he hears a noise from elsewhere in the apartment.

A voice could be heard from the living room. _“… stupid prick makes shitty dinner and doesn’t clean up after himself,”_  Takeru makes out.

When the floor creaks under the weight of an inopportune step, Kazuki turns around. For a few moments, no words are exchanged, only gawking stares as Takeru feels the blood drain from his face.

 _Shit. This is too awkward._ Before Kazuki can say anything, Takeru picks his wallet up off the the counter and starts rifling for bills.

“Here,” he says, handing Kazuki 6000 yen. “This is a bribe. Don’t tell your sister that you saw me. I’m going to go pick up fast food and she’s going to think I left before you saw me.”

Takeru is starting to regret antagonizing him all the time, because he’s never seen someone glare at him with so much exhausted hatred. “… Christ,” Kazuki says, and takes the money.


End file.
